


Will of the Kaiser

by SparkleCat21



Category: Rockman X | Mega Man X, Rockman ZX | Mega Man ZX, Rockman Zero | Mega Man Zero, Rockman.EXE | Mega Man Battle Network
Genre: Existential Crisis, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23256445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkleCat21/pseuds/SparkleCat21
Summary: It is the year 20XX, and The Great Cyber War is a thing of the past. Humans and navis live together in peace, and the times of widespread cyber-terrorism have long since ended. Or so they thought.The terrorist organization known as WWW, instigator of the Great War and bent on destroying all of net society, makes a reappearance with greater power, and even greater allies in the mysterious organizations known as Gospel and Nebula. Caught right in the middle is Netto Hikari and his netnavi Rockman, who have attracted the attention of a vengeful Wily. As the situation grows increasingly worse, the Hikari family is forced to unearth skeletons that should have remained hidden, skeletons that may just be the doom of them all.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Megaman: Call to Action](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20990666) by [AileenRoseven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AileenRoseven/pseuds/AileenRoseven), [Storm137](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storm137/pseuds/Storm137). 



> Welp, this is my first time posting anything to this site. I figured I might as well give it a try as a way to force myself to write more, so hopefully all goes well. :)  
> I was actually inspired by another fic already posted to this site for this concept, so check out AileenRoseven and Storm137's fic 'Megaman: Call to Action'! I thought I might give a go at my own version of a crossover like this, so there might be some similarities between the fics early on, but I want to eventually take it in a very different direction from what it looks like they're doing.  
> This was also inspired by another source, but I'll keep that one secret for awhile longer. Unless, of course, you can pick out the clues early on. The title is actually an ode to it, wink, wink.  
> I have no idea if this is going to go terribly well or terribly awful, but this is sort of a test run for fics later on, so bear with me. We all may be stuck at home for awhile anyways (coughcough coronovirus coughcough).  
> Without further ado, let's jump into this mess.

**1 year, 2 months**

… 

His first real memory is of pain, sharp and deep and incessant. The frantic voices over his head are muffled, as if his head is underwater, only interrupted by the erratic beeping of a machine. It is a cacophony in the dark space where he exists, drowning out even his own thoughts.

He feels ice-cold, a numbing freeze spreading from what feels like a dagger in his heart. He tries to breathe, but the weight of the ice in his chest presses down on his lungs. All he can manage is a stuttered gasp, a whimper accompanying it when the ice pierces further into his chest.  _ Please, Papa, please make it stop, it hurts! _

At that moment, he is enveloped in warmth and drawn up into a cocoon of heat. The ice in his heart recedes a little, and he relaxes silently into the embrace.  _ Papa _ , he thinks,  _ this is Papa _ . 

He is content to stay there until the pain is gone, but something wet splatters on his cheek. He’s disgruntled, small fist clutching weakly into his Papa’s shirt as he hides his face in the divot of the man’s clavicle.  _ No _ , he thinks,  _ Papa isn’t supposed to cry, Papa never cries! _ He whines at the thought, nosing deeper into his Papa’s chest. 

With each breath the man’s chest stutters, tears pouring down his face in distress. He curls over the small child in his arms, pressing their foreheads together.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Papa whispers over and over to him, more tears collecting on his cheeks. He squirms a little, small hands smearing at the tear tracks on his Papa’s face. But still, the tears flowed.

Somewhere off to the side, voices still echo in the din of the room, and the machine continues to beep.

He could feel his Papa take in one long, shuddering breath, his body rising with the swell of the man’s chest. The sharp, icy dagger is back, tearing its way through his chest. Black spots dance in front of his eyes, blocking out what little he can see. The machine stops beeping and instead lets out a long, shrill noise. A cacophony rises up around it, including a pained wail from a woman nearby.

He can feel himself being pulled away into the shroud of darkness that lurks in the corners of his mind. Hands, too, reach for him and try to pry him from his Papa’s embrace, but the man holds on, pressing his lips to his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, “I promise, I’ll save you. _ Whatever it takes _ .”

The hands are successful in pulling him away then, and he falls into the darkness.

…

**1 year, 3 months**

… 

Eyes followed Dr. Hikari as he moved about his lab in a zombie-like daze, hands running through his tangled hair and pulling at his bruised eyelids. His appearance was concerning, especially since he hadn’t stepped a foot out of his lab in several days. He had barricaded himself in his research lab two weeks ago after  _ it _ happened and only allowed a select few in to see him. But after a week, he refused to let anyone else enter, and never left.

Since then, he had depleted all the energy drinks and what little food he had on hand, prompting concern from many of his coworkers. They had resorted to installing a temporary pulley system outside of the lab’s bathroom window to send him food.

And the eyes continued to track him as he flitted from device to computer to device. Unaware of anything outside of himself and his project, he did not take notice of the two intruders observing him and his work from the large monitor facing his workstation. 

Intruders may not have been the right word, because they were family, and they were the only navis whose access to the lab’s computers were not blocked. They dared not say anything, however, for fear of being cast out as well. They had a right to see this through as much as Dr. Hikari did.

Indigo eyes fell away from the stumbling figure of Yuichiro, turning instead to the device on the far wall. He traced the shape of the pod with his eyes, not allowing himself to linger on the tiny figure within for fear of breaking down then and there. His companion, noticing that he was no longer watching their brother work, turned his bright green eyes to him.

“What is it, Zero?”

The navi sighed quietly, turning away from the screen to instead face his brother.

“Is what we’re doing right?”

X was visibly startled by the question, eyes wide and lips parted around a nonexistent breath. His mouth snapped shut after a moment, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I don’t understand…”

“You know as well as I do what this looks like,” Zero interrupted with a grimace, “and before you say anything, I’m asking as a scientist, not a family member.”

X seemed to consider that for a moment, head tipped to the side slightly and eyes narrowed at Zero under the furrow of his brow. Zero was beginning to think he wouldn’t get an answer when his brother finally spoke.

“I see where you’re coming from,” X began tentatively, “to others, this sort of… experiment would be disturbing. And the kind of attention it would attract,” X shook his head, “my core shudders at the thought.”

Zero waited for him to continue, but when it was clear that X was waiting for some sort of indication to continue, he grumbled, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“As a scientist, I would say that though this experiment is certainly an interesting test of the capabilities of our current technology, it is ultimately more dangerous than it is useful.” He tipped his head back, face smoothing out as he pondered something over.

“May I ask a question?”

Zero huffed fondly, despite the grimace trying to pull at his lips, “You don’t have to ask to ask a question, you know.”

X’s eyes were once again turned back to Yuichiro as he finished setting up the Pulse Transmission pod. “As your brother and family, is this the right thing to do?”

It was Zero’s turn to be surprised. He blinked at X, before turning to observe Yuichiro’s work. He was finishing up a program he had worked day and night to complete, using his son’s DNA as a basis. If this project worked, the Pulse Transmission system would send the child’s consciousness into the cyberworld, where it could then be stored in the navi frame Yuichiro had so dutifully put together. 

If it failed, then nothing else could be done.

They would lose a family member.

“I’m not sure if this is the right thing,” X turned his attention back to him, attentively listening, “but I would like to see this succeed, if for nothing else but Yuichiro’s sake.” Zero’s voice lowered to a whisper, “We’ve all given up so much, he shouldn’t have to give up one of his children, too.”

X smiled at him faintly, but it was the first time Zero had seen him smile since they heard the news. They both turned back to the screen to continue their observation.

Yuichiro was now sitting at his desk in front of his computer, running diagnostic scans to ensure his program was viable. As the computer read through the code, it let out a beep, warning of an issue in the program. At the sound, he dropped his head onto the edge of his desk with a hard thump, letting a high keening sound escape past his lips.

Zero and X grimaced, turning to each other.

“Intervention?”

“Intervention.” Zero nodded back, moving to the teleporter that would take him to Yuichiro’s personal computer.

X instead opened a link to one of his robotic shells, transferring into the machine and booting it up. When it came online, X opened his eyes to Yuichiro’s laboratory, not seen through a screen this time, but through his own optics. 

He stepped away from the charging station where his shell was housed further into the lab. From a chair he snatched a discarded lab coat, tugging it on over his armor. It was a force of habit; he hated being ogled at when using his shell, even if Yuichiro was familiar with his physical form and wasn’t the type to stare.

Even if he wasn’t trying to muffle his steps as he approached his brother, Yuichiro probably wouldn’t have heard him anyway. The poor man looked like he was five seconds from passing out, despite his current position clearly being uncomfortable. X reached out a hand and gently placed it on the scientist’s shoulder. Yuichiro, predictably, jerked in surprise and glanced up at X with bloodshot eyes.

“Hey little bro,” he said softly, forcing a smile, “you are allowed to ask for help, you know. You don’t have to go it alone.”

Yuichiro blinked up at him before pressing the bases of his palms to his eyes. He ground them in for a moment before pulling them away, eyes blinking rapidly as he attempted to dislodge the stickiness gluing his eyelids together.

“Sorry,” he eventually stuttered out, “it's just…”

“I think I found the issue.” 

Zero’s voice echoed from the desktop’s speaker, and he was now visible on the screen, scrolling through Yuichiro’s work.

At the look on their brother’s face, Zero quickly assured him, “Don’t worry, it was just a little fix. It shouldn’t throw off the rest of your work. Run the diagnostic scan again, would you?”

X swatted Yuichiro’s hand away from the mouse, leaning over him to pull up the diagnostic tool and click the scan button.

This time, the program read through the code without any issues, giving two beeps at the end to indicate success. A window popped up alerting that the file was now ready to execute, and X went ahead and confirmed the action, watching as the frame of a navi formed on the screen.

X’s optics shuttered for a moment when the frame completely came together in surprise. If he could have blushed in his shell, he would have. The navi frame clearly took a lot of inspiration from his own with the blue color scheme and a similar helmet. He was touched that Yuichiro had looked to him for inspiration, but it wasn’t the time for that discussion.

He turned his optics up to the Pulse Transmission system. Now that he was closer, he could see the small form of his nephew within the machine, modified into a table instead of the original seated design. The child was swathed in tubes and wires connected to a life support system near his bedside, and X couldn’t help but wonder.

“How did you get him here?”

Yuichiro was pulling up the controls for the Pulse Transmission system on another computer nearby, doing a final check of the settings. “I pulled some strings,” he answered simply, and X had to question what ‘pulling strings’ entailed before he decided to drop it. He probably didn’t want to know.

Yuichiro’s mouse hovered over the ‘Initiate Transmission’ button, eyes boring into the screen as if that would increase the chance of his success. X understood his delay. Yuichiro had lost his father, X’s creator and a subsequent father figure, to an accident with the system. The project had been abandoned after that.

“Don’t worry,” Zero’s voice echoed from the computer, “we’ll be with you.”

“No matter what,” X agreed, placing his hand back on his little brother’s shoulder.

Yuichiro’s lip quirked upward a little at that, “Thanks, you guys.”

“I’m your navi,” Zero huffed, “you don’t need to thank me.”

“What Zero means,” X cut in, a teasing lilt to his voice, “is that we’re family. It’s okay to rely on us, regardless of how it turns out.” His expression turned serious then, and he turned Yuichiro in his chair so they were face to face.

“Listen to me, Yuichiro,” X said lowly, expression stern, “if this ends in failure, it doesn’t make you any less of a father. You did everything you could, and that’s it.”

Yuichiro’s eyes turned glossy, and X knew he wasn’t really looking at him anymore, but it didn’t matter because his little brother choked out an earnest, “Okay,” and X knew he understood.

They both turned back to the screen, eyeing the button as Yuichiro brought his cursor above it.

“Initiating Pulse Transmission,” he muttered under his breath as he pressed the button, the click of the mouse a resounding finality.

…

He didn’t know how long he had been floating in the dark and cold, only that it felt like an eternity. The sharp iciness that had once pierced his chest was now an all-encompassing numbness, turning his body rigid and his mind blank.

Suddenly a light pierced the darkness, a hand reaching for him in the dark. The warmth of the light melted away the ice in his body, and he was able to reach for the large calloused hand with his own smaller one.

Once his hand was carefully clasped in the large one, it began to pull him into the light.

_ Come, my child, you are needed. _

Lines of code whirled past him as he passed into the light, data forming around him as he was carried away from the dark, and then everything stopped.

He was in a dark space again, but it was different from the darkness from before. This darkness was warm, safe, voluntary…

He opened his eyes.

In front of him was a window, looking out into a cluttered space that appeared to be a lab. In the very front was a man, leaning close to the window with eyes intently fixed on him. He blinked at the man, cocking his head to the side while he searched his memory bank for any clue of where he was or who he was looking at.

Something clicked at the back of his processor, his core giving a little jolt at the memory.

“Papa…?”

A relieved smile crossed the man’s face, wide and toothy, and tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

“Welcome back, Saito.”

  
  



	2. Chapter 1: To Be Or Not To Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A part of him curls in on itself at the thought of that, of being trapped in this glass cage that is frigid and merciless. But the rest of him has already resigned itself to his new reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be completely honest, I didn't think writing this chapter would take so long. Like, it has been an actual month since I uploaded the prologue, oopsie.  
> All I can say is that there was a lot going on and I just couldn't find the time. You wouldn't think online schooling would take up so much of your time, and yet here I am. That, and you add on other responsibilities like raising 24 chicks and you've got a recipe for disaster.  
> In short, I'm sorry that this is a little late (by my standards anyway). I meant to have it done two weeks ago and it just didn't happen. But from now on I'm going to hold myself to a month long limit at most, because right now isn't the best time for me, but I know in a few weeks time, I'll have plenty of time to write, so hopefully this won't happen again.  
> I'm not really sure how I feel about this chapter. It was a struggle to write mostly because I had no clue where I wanted to start and how I wanted to take it. I feel like this chapter played to some of my strengths, but at the same time, I'm not sure I'm satisfied with it. I pumped out the prologue in a couple of hours and this chapter took me a month to write for pete's sake! But I felt like I just had to get it over with so I could progress the story (they always say the first chapter is the hardest to write).  
> I've chattered enough, so let's get on with it.

**8 years, 11 months**

… 

Saito grows up in the cyber world, counting time based on his internal clock and learning from ones and zeros instead of letters. He spends the time from five to ten in Scilab’s computers, programming and reprogramming bits of scrap data, running errands around the lab (under the watchful eyes of Zero, of course), and exploring the laboratory’s extensive library. His uncle Zero takes to mentoring him in the art of net battling and virus busting once X has convinced his father that he is old enough, and _no, he won't die, stop being dramatic._

And the years passed, marked by the eternal ticking of Saito’s internal clock and the ever-evolving sequence of ones and zeros in the world around him.

It wasn’t long before something began to niggle at the back of his memory bank. 

The cyber-world was the only thing he had ever really known. The few things he does remember from ‘the before’ only include pain and warmth, things that as time went on he was beginning to forget. The images of his parents are instead replaced with pixels behind a glass screen that is cold and impenetrable. Their voices are reduced to digital interpretations of soundwaves, which, though similar, lack the passion he was once familiar with.

A part of him curls in on itself at the thought of that, of being trapped in this glass cage that is frigid and merciless. But the rest of him has already resigned itself to his new reality.

He is a navi now. Whoever he once was no longer existed. He is merely a phantom of his previous self, and he has a duty to carry on where the other him could not. It is not his place to desire things he cannot have, not with the way his father looks at him, like he sees a ghost, or how his mother holds his PET to her chest like she is afraid that he will disappear if she lets go.

Saito knows he has to be strong because his father is still watching him with a keen eye the same way his mother does. They both still want to know if he is _their_ Saito, if his father’s bet paid off because a human soul in a navi frame is unheard of. 

He is _unique_.

He is destined to remain the only one of his kind.

He is Dr. Hikari’s _masterpiece_.

He has never once doubted his parent’s love for him, but the more and more he thinks, the more articles he reads, and the more he trains with Zero, the thicker the wall he builds between navi Saito and human Saito. 

He feels like an imposter, a replacement that isn't quite the same. He is no longer the boy that has an identical twin brother, he is a Navi that marks the culmination of years of the Hikari family’s research. 

He is not ‘Saito’ anymore, and that makes his circuits twist in discomfort.

One day, when his internal clock tells him it has been nearly eight years since his creation, he approaches his father during his lunch break, shortly after uncle X joins them in the main PC. He and Zero are bickering the way old friends do, with exaggerated expressions and overly dramatic responses. It helps soothe his anxiety a little. 

“Papa,” he says, just loud enough to get his father’s attention. The man looks almost comical with his crooked glasses, mussed hair, and spaghetti noodles half hanging out of his mouth as he looks at him in surprise. The man sheepishly swallows down what is left of his mouthful before giving the young navi his full attention. 

“What is it, Saito?”

He barely contains a flinch when that name is directed at him, and he knows it by the dark, calculating look Zero is giving him from a few paces away. He tucks his hands behind his back and tangles his fingers together to keep his hands from shaking.

“I want a new name,” he blurts out unintentionally, and then he does flinch. He hears the clatter of his father’s fork as it falls from his lax fingers onto the table, and from the corner of his eye, he can see X’s lips flapping like a fish. Zero just raises an eyebrow, eyes quickly flicking from him to his father, back and forth, until they finally settle back on the young Navi again.

He immediately moves into damage control, “I just mean that maybe I should have a more navi-sounding name. Wouldn’t it be weird if, you know…” he trails off then, gesturing vaguely in a way that isn’t helping his argument. But before he can say something stupid, help comes unexpectedly.

“He makes a good point,” Zero agrees indifferently, shifting his weight to his other leg. “Going around with a human name will only spell trouble.”

“Indeed,” X recovers himself, placing a hand on Zero’s shoulder in support, “perhaps it is getting around to that time, anyway. You wish for him to have a netop of his own, correct?” He addresses that last part toward his younger brother, who has his hands steepled before his face and look of consideration in his eyes. Those eyes are focused on his son, or what he believes is his son because this Saito is not the same Saito that he once held in his arms, but for him, they are the same. The navi can’t help but feel like he is betraying his father's trust, because he wants nothing more than to separate himself from the person his parents believe him to be.

He tries to convince himself that it is better this way, but the tiny part of him deep in the recesses of his coding that _wants_ continues to thrash at the unfairness of it all.

“You know,” his father begins, head leaning against a loosely curled fist, “before X, my father worked on a prototype AI, which eventually became the foundation of the rest of his work.” He turned his eyes away from the screen as if attempting to recall an old memory. “The AI was destroyed in a cyberattack on my father’s lab, but not after it had aided us in the war against cyber terrorism. My father had taken to calling it Rockman,” he looked back to the screen with a slight upturn to his lips, “I’m sure my father wouldn’t mind if you took on the name for yourself.”

There is only honesty in his father’s face, he concludes as he ponders. This name, though still bound by familial connection, is one he does not cringe at the thought of using. He decides he likes the name because it is not the name of someone _who both exists and doesn't_. 

He grins innocently up at his father, ignoring the distaste of that small part of him that _hates_ , and accepts the name.

That is the day Saito is lost and Rockman is born from his ashes. 

…

Zero and Rockman spar, as usual, that evening.

Despite the events of that afternoon, Rockman feels better than he has in a long time. Zero must be able to tell because his uncle is pushing harder than usual. It is all he can do to stay on his feet and not stumble under Zero’s relentless whirlwind of motion. Each swing of the blade was effortless and elegant in all of its ferocity, the space around them seeming to tremble in the wake of its force. 

Rockman has always admired Zero for the level of skill he exhibits in and out of battle. A navi that can manage his father’s stubborn streak and move with such speed effortlessly must be skilled. He would know. If there was one thing he inherited from his father, it was his stubborn pride.

His concentration briefly slips as he wonders if that is a result of his programming or the consciousness upload, and Zero slips into his space like a shark tasting blood. 

The blade slashes downward as if aiming to disconnect his shoulder from his body, and he drops low to avoid the blow. To put some distance between them, he flips back, kicking Zero’s blade out of his hand for good measure. The sword isn’t even in the air for longer than a click before Zero summons another to replace it, pursuing him even as he dances just out of reach.

And so they continue, Zero hunting Rockman across the bare digital landscape while he tries to keep his distance. This is a normal routine for them, where Zero pushes Rockman’s speed and stamina a little more each day in the form of a relentless chase. The duration of the lesson is entirely up to Zero, only he decides when they stop and move on to the next thing.

They had learned fairly early on that Rockman was a natural shot, so Zero skipped over that lesson and instead focused on building his maneuverability and close-ranged combat. 

It is quite a while longer before Zero calls it quits, only when Rockman is panting to the point of wheezing and can barely stand. He gives the younger navi an evaluating look before dismissing his blade.

“You’ve improved.”

Rockman would blush if he had the energy, but in his exhaustion, he focuses on catching his breath first. Zero’s compliments are always rare but earnest, and Rockman has learned to accept them for what they are.

Oddly enough, instead of leading Rockman in another exercise, Zero sits on the panel below him, gesturing to the open space next to him. Rockman takes the hint and carefully lowers himself onto his knees beside his uncle. They sit for a moment in silence, Zero watching him with dark indigo eyes while he averts his own to his gloved fingers. The red navi shifts so that he can rest an elbow on his knee and cup his chin in his palm, his other hand placed on the ground as a brace.

“Well?” he begins, an eyebrow raised in encouragement. When Rockman just looks at him with confusion, he rolls his eyes with a light huff, expression turning stern, “Do you want to explain what all that was about?”

It isn’t a question, Rockman realizes when it finally clicks what Zero is referring to. His uncle is expecting him to answer truthfully. He bites his lip as he mulls that over.

“I’m… not sure...exactly,” his words come out stilted, but he figures that it is as close to the truth as it gets, “I guess I thought that… If I had a different name, maybe–” His brows furrow as he tries to find a way to explain it without it sounding… wrong. Zero, picking up on his distress, lets out a short sigh and shifts so he’s properly facing his nephew. 

His expression is that of careful consideration as he begins to speak, “You’ve been off for a while.” Rockman nods in response. “Something was bothering you, and somehow, a different name made all of that go away.” A weaker nod this time. “Speak honestly with me, I won’t judge.”

Rockman looks up at him through his lashes, head bowed to hide his expression, “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but…” He gathers up the courage to look his uncle directly in the eyes, “I barely remember anything before… _this_ ,” he gestures to himself with a violent flick of his wrist, “what I do remember is so faint that sometimes I think I may have dreamed it all up.”

“That should be normal,” Zero interjects, “you were very young when your consciousness was uploaded here.”

“But I remember everything after that in perfect detail,” Rockman argues a little desperately, “I just–” 

He ducks his head again, lips pressed tightly together, “Sometimes I wonder if the Saito from before and the Saito from now are even the same people.”

A dead silence falls over them at his words, and Rockman curls into himself in response. He doesn’t think he can get any smaller even if he tried. The weight of his words bears down on him like the sky on Atlus’s shoulders.

“I think I understand,” Zero’s words shatter the weight of absolute silence around them, shocking Rockman out of his mortification. “Because you cannot reconcile this version of yourself with that of the past, you began to differentiate those two halves. By having a new name, you can fully separate yourself from who you once were.” He pauses as if considering saying more. 

“Am I wrong?”

Rockman shakes his head, and adds a soft, “No,” for good measure. He can still feel Zero’s prodding gaze on him.

“That’s fine,” Rockman gave a start, looking back up into Zero’s eyes, “Whatever the reason, whether it’s your way of coping with the shift from the physical world to the cyber world, or if you just want to start over with a new identity, there’s nothing wrong with that. To say so would make me a hypocrite.”

Zero looks away with a snort, “And as I said earlier, it’s safer for you to go by a navi name, anyway. The Hikari family is _very_ well known after all.” 

He gracefully pulls himself back onto his feet and offers Rockman a hand. The younger navi takes it, and with a firm tug, Rockman is on his feet as well, albeit without the easy elegance that Zero possesses. 

“We’ll end here today,” Zero orders brusquely, steering Rockman toward the portal to his father’s PC. “It’s nearly time to close up anyway.”

“Uncle–”

“No if-and-or-buts about it, kid. You have a curfew.”

“No, it’s just,” Rockman plants his feet on the floor and cranes his head up so he can look Zero in the eyes, “ _please_ don’t tell dad.”

Zero gives him a glare with no heat in it and a sigh just shy of being dramatic before he caves, “I wasn’t going to say a word.”

Rockman breathes a sigh of relief, allowing himself to be steered the rest of the way to the portal. They arrive just as X, in his shell, is physically attempting to pry Dr. Hikari away from one of the devices at the far end of the lab with mixed results. From where they are, neither Zero or Rockman can hear the specifics of their conversation, outside of the obnoxiously loud noises and what sounds like a machine in distress.

Zero just stares at the scene with resignment deeply etched into his face, and cannot help but drag a hand over his eyes.

Rockman similarly observes the drama with a troubled expression, unsure of whether he should be concerned or amused. 

It is some time later that they leave Scilabs, and only after X is successful in dragging Dr. Hikari away from the angrily whirring machine. Zero keeps his promise not to say anything, but if the meaningful glances sent his way are any indication, something about what Rockman had told him is concerning him.

He isn't sure what to make of that.


	3. Chapter 2: The Art of Progression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You have to help me fix this!” he shouts, panic contorting his expression. Rockman thinks it would be pretty funny in any other situation.
> 
> “I don’t have to help you with anything.” 
> 
> “But Zero will kill me–”
> 
> “Then perish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry! This came out a lot later than I promised or intended, but life sort of just got in the way.  
> I did try to bulk up the chapter a little bit as an apology, so here's my late father's day gift.  
> Since it's a little difficult for me to keep caught up with everybody here, I created a tumblr! You can find me under the username: sparklecat21. Under my feed, you find my first and only post so far; a rough sketch of Zero. I figure its good insurance to know you're in the right place.  
> This chapter is way overdue, so I don't want to unload a bunch of stuff here. Make sure to check the end notes for some extra stuff though!  
> Thanks for sticking with me!

**10 years, 8 months**

… 

“Uncle Axl, are you sure this is okay?”

“Of course it is!” comes Axl’s response from behind the bulky device he is messing with, “We’re just having a little fun is all! Everyone around here needs to lighten up anyway.”

Rockman sighs deeply from where he is crouched on the opposite side of the device, finding in himself the urge to bite back with a sarcastic remark that usually didn’t manifest itself.

“I don’t think this is what Uncle Zero intended when he asked us to do something productive.”

“Is that sass I hear?” Axl calls, far too pleased, “Who knew the little goody-two-shoes had it in him!” 

The blue navi hopes Axl can feel the heat of his glare through the device. “What is this thing anyway? You still haven’t told me why we’re here.”

“This baby,” Axl appears from behind the device, leaning against it suggestively, eyes slanted and grin smug, “is a virus breeder.”

“...”

“Oi! What’s with that look!”

“I have to question who thought it was a good idea to leave this in an area that  _ you  _ can access.”

“Calm your britches, kid. It ain’t a big deal.”

“Do I need to remind you of the locker incident, or that time you blew up the air conditioning system, or the time there was a server-wide blackout because you flooded the chatbox with memes. Speaking of, I  _ still  _ have no idea how you managed to accomplish _ that _ –”

“Alright, alright! I get it! Cut me some slack, kid. I can’t believe people still don’t believe me when I tell them how snarky you are,” that last part is mumbled to himself, and Rockman pretends to not have heard it.

“Since this machine is probably involved in another one of your infamous schemes, you might as well tell me what you’re up to. You know, so I know what to tell Uncle Zero when he comes back to a disaster.”

Axl’s face pulls into a pout, and Rockman can’t help but think that it  _ is _ kinda cute. But those were  _ dangerous thoughts _ . If anyone gave an inch to Axl he would take a mile, hijack a plane, crash that plane, make his getaway in an armored vehicle, somehow total that one too, and then sprint right off the edge of the world border.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Axl chortles, disappearing behind the virus breeder, “I just want to see how many viruses I can stack on top of one another. You know, a work of art.”

Rockman’s eyes twitch, knowing that anything with Axl is never ‘not a big deal'. This is going to end in a disaster he has no intention of taking part in. Even if he is just a little bit curious. Maybe just a little bit.

_ No, no, nope. Stop right there. Those are  _ dangerous thoughts _. _

“So, essentially, you want to build a tower out of mettaurs?”

“Exactly!”

“And you plan on using this virus breeder to do it?”

“Yep!”

“Do you even know  _ how _ to use it?”

“Well–”

The virus breeder lets out a strange sound, something harsh and grating and completely unnatural, and Rockman knows instinctively that means bad news.

_ Oh, boy. Here we go again. _

He leaps up and away from the breeder, landing on a data cube floating above the platform just as it explodes with a torrent of viruses. They fly everywhere, spilling from the breeder like water from a burst pipe, and cover the entire platform in an instant. He can barely make out Axl, who is struggling to get away from the flood of viruses below.

Axl finally breaks free and leaps up to a smaller data cube a short distance away, arms and legs wrapping around it in a bear hug. He stares down at the torrent of viruses with an openly horrified expression, slowly turning his head to give Rockman a shaky grin.

“No.” He deadpans before Axl can say a word.

“But–”

“ _ No. _ ”

“You have to help me fix this!” he shouts, panic contorting his expression. Rockman thinks it would be pretty funny in any other situation.

“ _ I _ don’t have to help  _ you  _ with anything.” 

“But Zero will kill me–”

“Then perish.”

Axl’s mouth drops open as his eyes go wide, staring at Rockman in total disbelief. The blue navi rolls his eyes in response. 

“Close your mouth, it’s unflattering.” 

Axl’s jaw snaps shut with an audible click, but his dark green eyes remain wide open. 

A beat passes, and then the older navi’s expression shifts, lower lip jutting out in a heavy pout. With his eyes as wide as they are, he almost looks like a water-logged kitten. Sparkles and rose petals dance around him as his cuteness level rises, and Rockman can’t help but be slightly in awe at Axl’s sheer ability to turn a pout into a lethal weapon. He can sort of understand why people let Axl get away with as much as he does.

It  _ is _ pretty cute.

_ Don’t go there. Those are  _ dangerous thoughts _. Do. Not. Go. There. _

If it is even possible, Axl’s eyes grow even larger, light reflecting off the surface as if they are covered in a film of fresh tears. His bottom lip trembles faintly, and suddenly, Rockman is feeling very  _ very guilty _ .

_ Oh for the love of– _

“ _ Fine, _ ” he spits out, “just,  _ fine, _ alright? But I am not getting in trouble for this. This is one hundred percent on you.”

Axl’s face lights up like a Christmas tree, grin so wide and blindingly white it surely would have hurt if he were made of flesh. 

_ I am so going to regret this. _

“Alrighty then, wonderboy, what’s the plan?” Axl titters excitedly, leaning forward over his data cube as if it would bring him any closer, only to flip it over with a girlish squeal and end up suspended upside down.

“Well, now I have to come up with something, considering that I can’t just leave you behind as bait anymore.”

“You’re so cruel to me, you know that!” Axl protests loudly, but Rockman ignores him in favor of parsing the situation.

The virus breeder continues to pour out viruses at an alarming rate, straining against the sheer magnitude of them. At least the viruses are mostly low-level, common viruses. Then again, the number of mettaurs gathering below could probably cause a network-wide earthquake…

A thought occurs to him then, “Shouldn’t the firewall and automated defense system have activated by now?”

“Oh, that,” Axel grunts out as he attempts to right himself, “the system is probably bogged down right now due to the number of viruses being produced. It was too much too fast, you know?”

Rockman grimaces, “That… sounds like a grievous oversight.”

Axel’s shrug is too nonchalant, “I guess we should cross our fingers and hope the server doesn’t crash.”

The blue navi grumbles words that shall not be repeated as he takes stock of the chip data he has on hand. He has all the basics, just in case. He’d have to make do and hope that Axl has a little more to offer in that regard.

“We’ll need to clear the field before we can get to the virus breeder and shut it off.” He could barely make out the device in the sea of squirming viruses, blanketed as it was. “Crowd control is ultimately our first objective. I assume that we’re not allowed to blow up the breeder, so we’ll have to find a way to work around that.”

“I think Ciel may commit murder if anything happened to her pet project.”

Rockman hums, calling a mini bomb to his hand. He drops it over the edge of the cube, watching as it explodes on contact, briefly leaving the flooring below exposed before it is swamped by viruses again. A thought occurs to him.

“Huh,” he says aloud, eyes wide and trained on the floor. Axel has finally righted himself, just a touch too calm as he clambers up onto his cube.

“What’s up kid?”

“I think I have an idea,” he answers honestly, ignoring the feeling that something about this situation was just slightly off. “Say, do you have a fan or wind battle chip on hand?”

“I’ve got both, actually.”

Rockman calls another three mini bombs into his hands and grins in Axel’s direction, “Want to test your reaction time?”

Axel grins back, a chunk of data already forming in his palm, “I’m game.”

…

When Zero returns, he finds Dr. Hikari’s computer devoid of life. This would normally not be so concerning, had he not placed his nephew in Axl’s care. But he had, and Axl is not a navi known for silence.

He moves quickly and efficiently, checking all of Axl’s usual haunts. With no success, he grows more and more concerned. Axl is no idiot, even if he frequently causes trouble. He wouldn’t have left Scilabs computers with his honorary nephew in tow without explicit permission. 

He checks one of the main lab areas on a whim.

There, Zero comes across an unusual, but an unsurprising scene. The area around him is trashed, bits of junk data and the remains of viruses pile in heaps around the edges of the platform. A patchwork of scorched tiles litter the floor. It looks like a miniature warzone.

And Zero would know what that looks like.

His nephew sits next to the virus breeder, which has somehow remained unscathed, working with its core data. The devil himself lounges on the floor next to him, pouting as he plays with an errant piece of scrap data. The picture would appear perfectly innocent if it had not been for the devastation around them.

A high whine exits Axl’s throat, though it seems he has yet to notice Zero and turns on his side to face his companion.

“Come ooon, can’t you help a buddy out? If you advocate for me, Zero wouldn’t even think about deleting me!”

“I already helped you clean up the mess you made,” Rockman huffs out, long-sufferingly, “and I am currently attempting to save you from Auntie Ciel’s wrath. I suggest you work on your pleas for mercy for when Uncle Zero returns.”

Well, now was as good a time as any.

Zero forces a cough, catching the attention of the two other navies. Rockman looks at him blankly, while Axl gazes at him with dawning horror. They stare at each other for some time in a standstill.

Rockman looks down at Axl, “I hope you came up with something. Groveling wouldn’t be a bad place to start,” and then promptly turns back to his work, fingers peeling back the data and correcting the code where it was needed.

Axl raises his hands in surrender, eyes looking everywhere but his mentor, “I-I can explain–”

“I’m sure you can,” Zero interrupts coolly. “Please, do tell me why this lab area is in its current condition. And you might as well tell me what you’ve done with the virus breeder, considering that we are supposed to be using this very lab for a demonstration within an hour.”

His nephew pauses in his work, seemingly frozen at the words, before his own came in disbelief, “Wait. There’s a demonstration today? In this room?”

“Indeed,” Zero responds icily, eyeing Axl up and down.

“For the love of–” Rockman hisses, whirling around with such force that he couldn’t seem to get the right words out, “Axl, what in the creator’s name–are you insane?!”

“Honestly speaking, that’s a pretty close guess.”

“There’s no way I can fix this code in that time, much less help you clean this up!” He gestures to the mess surrounding them, arms flailing like a wounded bird. Zero sighs for what feels like the umpteenth time. He is sure that were he a sac of blood and flesh, he would be forming a migraine right about now.

“I suppose there’s no other way around it. I’ll have to call in a few favors.”

“You mean have X play distraction while we run around like chickens with our heads cut off.”

Zero narrows a single-eyed glare at Axl, “Yes. Now help me dispose of this mess. We’ve got half an hour to have this place looking spotless.”

…

Netto may have the opportunity to visit Scilabs as much as he likes because of his father, but that doesn’t stop each visit from being exciting. 

Even the hero-worship his classmates have for X is tolerable when there is so much to do and see. He feels a little bit bad that the navi had to put up with so much ogling, but he has to admit that some of the questions his classmates are asking are pretty entertaining.

It _ is _ strange that he had run off in a hurry just a short while ago, though. They may have worked on Netto’s friends, but X’s half-baked excuses couldn’t get past him. He had hung around his dad’s lab enough to know what techno-jargon they spoke was real or fake.

But he is quickly distracted by the prospect of net battling. This ‘virus breeder’ thing sounds entertaining enough. Maybe he can finally prove to Dekao that he is the better net battler. Yes, his priorities are very straight, thanks. 

Walking into the lab that contains the computer with the virus breeder, Netto has very clear expectations of what he is going to see. 

What he does see is not necessarily an unfamiliar scene, but not one he was expecting. At all. 

Axl being scolded by both Zero and X at the same time is an experience he has witnessed far too many times, but at least it explains why X ran off in such a hurry earlier. 

Axl doesn’t appear to be all that upset about the chastisement, however. He almost seems pleased with himself when he catches the sight of Netto’s class walking into the lab. The only real difference from previous situations like this is the unfamiliar spectator, a small blue navi with hands folded behind his back, watching Axl’s scolding session with a bored gaze. 

Their eyes meet just for a moment, bright emerald green on dark brown, but Netto swears that there was some sort of unnatural intelligence there, as if it were a real human looking back at him and not a highly intelligent AI. He decides he must be seeing things and quickly banishes the thought, but the navi is already calling out to X and Zero, requesting their attention.

When they realize they have an audience, X clears his throat, kicking Axl in the shin to get him to stand properly. Zero is completely unperturbed, lifting a single eyebrow in response.

“Ah, so that’s what you were after.”

X looks at him questioningly, but Zero just shakes his head, a look passing between them that says they will discuss this later. Since Netto’s classmates don’t know how to read the mood, they all rush forward to get a glimpse of THE Zero, X, and Axel together on the screen. 

“So cool!”

“I’m, like, your biggest fan–”

“Do you think I could somehow get an autograph?”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“I’ve never seen that navi before. Do you think it’s a new model?”

“It’s a custom job. Commercial lines aren’t usually so detailed.”

The navi in question appears embarrassed by the extra attention caused by being near walking legends. He doesn’t quite blush, but he does turn away from the screen, boot tapping a nervous rhythm on white tile. Before Netto’s classmates can cause any more trouble, a researcher carefully ushers them back from the screen, putting himself between them like a shield.

“Because we have some sensitive machinery within this lab, I must ask you to keep at least three feet away from any device unless directed otherwise.”

Some of his classmates make their displeasure known, but a few at least have the decency to look ashamed. Yaito’s hand is already in the air by the time the researcher offers to answer a few questions before they begin the demonstration, bouncing up on her toes so she can be seen over their taller classmates.

“I’ve heard rumors of Scilabs developing a new series of customizable navies. Is that true?”

“I’m afraid not,” the researcher answers honestly, “We’re currently focused on developing more efficient medical use navies.”

“Then what about that other navi behind you?” Yaito plows on right ahead, “I know enough about the models currently on the market to know that one isn’t any of those.”

The researcher appears nervous at the question, eyes shifting behind him as if asking permission from the navies on the screen. “I’m afraid I can’t say. That is one of Dr. Hikari’s personal research projects, so I wouldn’t know.”

_ So it was dad, huh? _

That explains a few things, like the Hikari emblem emblazoned on the sides of the blue navi’s helmet. Netto looks over the researcher’s shoulder to the screen where the navies are trying to make a discreet escape. Their eyes meet again, this time more intentionally on Netto’s part, and he can’t get rid of the nagging sensation that he’s missing something. 

The navi stares back for a short moment, expression difficult to read, before allowing himself to be ushered away by a relieved X. 

When the researcher leads them into the demonstration, Netto lets himself forget about the encounter.

…

Rockman doesn’t, though.

...

He spends the next hour nervously pacing back and forth in the digital space of his father’s computer. Such feverish movement is enough to draw X’s concerned gaze, who leans silently against a broken area lock. Zero is busy keeping a careful eye on Axl, the younger navi getting a little too nosy for his own good. 

Speaking of, Axl appears wholly unconcerned as he pokes around the many, many files on Dr. Hikari’s desktop. Zero has to stop him a few times from accessing things he shouldn’t, but otherwise leaves him to his own devices. At this point, he figures, Axl’s already had his fun.

This is the scene Dr. Hikari walks in on, and he has to pause a moment to get his bearings. He’s seen a lot of strange things happen in his lab before, but something about the atmosphere here is different. Not to mention that seeing Axl here is unusual, considering how tightly Zero polices the lab portal. The red navi catches his eye from across the room, and he takes that as his cue to approach.

He sits heavily in his desk chair, the old plastic creaking warningly at the abuse. He needs to get it replaced, he just hasn’t had the time. It’s currently item number forty-seven on his to-do list, but that can change if his superiors decide to offload any more work onto him. 

He figures he might as well take care of the issue at hand before he gets too deep into his work, so he pulls up the current project he’s working on and addresses the navies on his computer screen. 

“It’s quieter than usual. Is everything alright?”

“Well,” X starts apprehensively, waving a hand towards his nephew wearing a hole in the floor, “I’m not sure if there’s a word for it, but this is what he’s been doing for the past hour.”

“The kid’s having an existential crisis,” Zero deadpans from where he is wrestling a file out of Axl’s hands with minimal difficulty. Yuichiro lifts an eyebrow at that, glancing between the four navies on screen.

“Wait,  _ what? _ ”

“It’s not an existential crisis!” Saito exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air, “It’s different, like– I don’t know…”

His fervent pacing slows to a stop, a look of realization falling over his countenance. A groan pierces the air as he buries his head in his hands.

“No, wait, this is definitely an existential crisis.”

“See,” Zero remarks, successfully prying the file from Axl’s hands and holding it over his head where it would be difficult for him to reach. Axl makes his disapproval known as he tries to snatch the file back.

“What exactly happened?” Yuichiro pushes again, voice altered by distress. Axl decides at that moment to act like the adult he technically is.

“Netto’s class was here on a field trip today. Let’s just say they happened to run into one another, in a manner of speaking.”

His statement hangs in the air for a moment.

“That’s…” Yuichiro winces, “not ideal.”

“Oh, you have  _ got _ to be kidding me,” Axl plants his hands on his hips, a frown tugging at his lips, “I’m getting real tired of this ‘dance around the issue indefinitely’ attitude. Netto’s turning eleven soon, and I think it’s about time we make some progress.”

At the looks the others give him, the scarred navi lets out an indignant squawk, “Oi! I’m not saying we have to spill the beans to the brat, but don’t you think the twins should have the opportunity to bond?” Axl’s frown twists into a teasing smirk, eyes glinting with mad glee, “Besides, you did promise Netto a custom navi for his birthday this year.”

Yuichiro blinks at that, eyes turning up to the ceiling as he attempts to recall said event.

“Did I?”

“You did,” comes Zero’s blunt response.

“To be fair,” X placates, ever the mediator, “you were well into seventy-two hours without sleep. It was while you were working on that special request for Log Corporations.”

The navies can see the exact moment the figurative light bulb goes off in Yuichiro’s head, because he suddenly goes pale, “Oh.”

“I can think of a few more words to describe that week,” Zero adds offhandedly, reorganizing the files Axl had previously made a mess of.

X shoots him a look, “Not in front of the children.”

Axl’s eyebrows furrow at the retort, “Wait, does that include me?”

“Who was actually doing the babysitting today?” Zero counters, raising an eyebrow in Axl’s direction. Axl performs his award-winning pout, despite it having no effect on Zero.

“Alright, let’s get back on track,” Yuichiro interrupts before the banter can continue, “I’m still not sure I understand how this translates to an existential crisis. So if someone would fill me in…”

Their heads swivel simultaneously to look to the youngest member of their group, who has yet to say something since his previous outburst. He shuffles in discomfort under their united gazes, eyes flickering from one point to another, but never landing on them.

“It’s just weird,” he eventually says, realizing that he isn’t getting out of this conversation, “I haven’t seen Netto since he was, like, two. Navies and humans don’t have the same awareness of the progression of time, so I guess I never realized how long it had been. Especially since I haven’t aged at all. At least, not in the human sense.”

And that surprises Yuichiro because he had never thought of that before. He has never assumed because those in his profession  _ just don’t make assumptions _ . But now that he thinks about it, time progression must be strange for X and Zero, who are about the same age and much older than he. They have watched children grow into adults and adults into old age, and have even watched old friends pass on, all while remaining mostly stagnant.

Yuichiro has never been very good with emotions, that’s why he has stuck to computers all this time. He’s lucky Haruka is both very good with emotions and not afraid to say what’s on her mind, otherwise their relationship would have never progressed past the first date. But he does try, and he knows he has to for Saito because there are barriers now, and he  _ would _ like to minimize the number of walls between them. He’s thankful that Zero can act as a father figure where he cannot, but he knows this is something he has to settle.

“Saito,” he asks gently, noting the strange look he can’t quite place that crosses his son’s face, “Would you like to be Netto’s navi?” 

His reaction is one of surprise, as if he hadn’t expected Yuichiro to ask him for his input. 

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he continues, trying his best to be reassuring, “but you’ve been cooped up here in the lab network for years. I really should have offered sooner, but I suppose now is as good a time as any.”

Saito has his eyes cast down to his hands, gloved fingers fiddling with each other as he thinks of a response. When he lifts his head, his expression is one of relief and something else, that strange, lurking shadow that rears its head again.

“I think I would like that,” he says softly, prompting a quiet (or at least quiet by Axl’s standards) but exuberant fist pump. Zero’s expression is as enigmatic as ever, but the tension in the line of his shoulders has faded. X smiles the same way he does whenever he is successful in pulling Yuichiro away from his desk during a late workday.

Yuichiro considers the situation solved and mentally marks that off his list of things to do, even with the nagging suspicion that he’s missing something important. He preoccupies himself with work, leaving the navies to their own devices. He figures that X and Zero are enough to handle Axl’s penchant for trouble.

… 

In the end, they end up setting off the sprinkler system by accident. When questioned about it, the navies all point to Axl, who grins sheepishly. The fact that the others don’t even muster the energy to at least look annoyed tells the new personnel just how frequently this occurs.

…

**10 years, 9 months**

… 

In the darkness of the room, it is impossible to tell left from right, forward from backward. The only indication of up or down is the presence of gravity, which keeps the room’s occupants rooted on the old white and black tile. A thick layer of dust blankets everything, only disturbed by the fresh footprints that lead deeper into the cloying darkness. The air is stale, the smell foul. Breathing takes extra effort here, especially for someone of his age.

He carefully follows the footprints into the shadows, the click of his shoes on the tile echoing tauntingly at him. If he were superstitious he may have been more fearful for his well-being, but as it stands, he is of a logical mind. 

Still, he traces the edge of the card in his pocket with a worn, calloused thumb. He finds the action comforting, despite the letter’s contents. But that is why he is here, to resolve this issue immediately. He has no need for useless distractions that will only cause him problems in the future.

He knows he has reached the right place when the air around him changes, dropping in temperature and weighing thick on his old lungs. It happens so suddenly, that he pauses right in his tracks to catch his breath.

Deep in the darkness ahead of him, a curved metallic piece glints despite the lack of light. Its very presence is eerie, and enough to have his hackles raised. A deep, grating voice echoes out of the darkness.

“So you have come.”

He narrows his eyes suspiciously at that small glint, an irate retort already falling from his lips, “What is the meaning of this?!” He tosses the letter from his pocket, watching as the black envelope falls to the floor.

The voice chuckles, the very sound like nails on a chalkboard. He wills himself to stand his ground, to not allow this crooked individual, whoever they are, an inch. 

“It is exactly as I wrote in that letter,” the voice finally responds, an ugly sort of amusement coloring his tone, “I have a business proposition for you.”

“And do tell me,” he growls back, unwilling to fall into this person’s schemes, “why should I listen to a fool who dares not show his face?”

“Because,” he gets the distinct feeling of something coiling around him in the darkness, slowly inching inward as it circles its perceived prey, “your goals and mine ultimately coincide. There is someone, or rather, a group of people you wish nothing more than to see completely defeated.” The voice pauses there, and suddenly there is a gust of air at his ear, as if the owner of the voice is leaning over him.

“Those same people you despise I also wish to see perish. They pose a threat to my goals, and I will not allow mere pebbles to block my path. Is it not the same for you?”

He takes a shuddering breath, thinking on the voice’s words. He can admit that the proposition is tempting, if this individual is to be believed. Perhaps this is a sign. His goals had fallen through after his last defeat, but maybe this was his chance to finally achieve his fantasies of vengeance.

The voice is silent, awaiting his reply. He lets a crooked grin pull at his lips.

“I’m listening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcannons:  
> \--Axl is one hundred percent a prankster and no one can change my mind. He has a penchant for finding trouble, but also for getting out of it. That doesn't mean he can't be serious, though. He'd just rather have fun and goof off while he can.  
> \--I don't know why, but I have this headcannon (and have had for a while) that Haruka was once a professional figure skater. Like I said, I have no clue where that came from.  
> \--X may be the resident mediator, but he's the scariest when angry. And he will willingly kick Yuichiro's ass if it means he'll go home to his family. He ain't going to put up with his shit.  
> \--The wonder trio of X, Zero, and Axl is really fun to write under a comedic lens. They are the holy trinity of comedy here, and you can pry that from my cold, dead hands.
> 
> I'll try and incorporate some of these (if they haven't been already) in future chapters.


	4. Chapter 3: Shattered Glass (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, here it is! This is probably a little late, but that's because I spent a lot of time working on this chapter, as well as coming up with a plan for future chapters. This chapter actually ended up being shorter than I planned it to be, so that way I can afford to spread out the content a little more. That said, I'm not sure I'm satisfied with how this chapter turned out, but it is a necessary evil.
> 
> Also, make sure to read the notes at the end for my plan on updates through November.

**14 years, 11 months**

… 

Haruka stands in the foyer of her home, looking down upon a short cabinet pressed against the wall. It’s an old family heirloom, carved from dark wood and meticulously polished. The gold embellishments gleam under the light of the early morning sun, the sky painted in pinks and oranges past the windows framing the front door. She takes a deep breath, jerking the top drawer open to reveal a mostly empty space except for one thing.

She retrieves it with somber reluctance, tucking it into the pocket of her skirt and patting it down to disguise the shaking in her hands. She curses herself for forgetting most of her training, but equally consoles herself. It _has_ been _years_.

With nothing else to do, she steps into the living room, eyes scanning for her gremlin of a husband. All she can see of him is his wild mop of hair over the back of the couch. It’s no question who Netto most takes after.

She approaches their well-worn sofa, leaning over the back to take in her husband who seems to be dozing off again, mug loosening in his grip. Eager to avoid the inevitable mess, she quickly raps her knuckles against the back of his skull. He startles, mug clenching tightly in his grasp as his head jerks up, eyes blinking blearily behind his wide-rimmed glasses. 

Amusement lightens the weight in her chest, and a smile graces her features.

“What did I tell you? Drink it while it's hot. We’re getting your body clock straightened out whether you like it or not.”

Yuichiro’s only response is a grunt, eyes drooping again, but he brings the mug to his lips as directed. Haruka moves around the couch to perch on the armrest nearest to Yuichiro, hands folded in her lap while she goes through her mental checklist for the day. Airisu had gone out early this morning to take care of some chores for her, and she wouldn’t be back until later. 

Yuichiro sets the mug down after a period of silence, having finished its contents. He looks more awake and aware of his surroundings, even if the slope of his shoulders and the bags under his eyes indicate that he hasn’t fully returned to the land of the living. She palms the object in her pocket when he looks up at her questioningly, turning over what she wants to say in her head.

“When you were away on your business trip, something arrived in the mail.” She pulls the object out of her pocket and holds it out for her husband to take. The envelope is mostly unremarkable. It’s already been opened, the frayed edges of the lip folded down from being handled. It must have been delivered in person because there is no evidence of it having been through postal. 

“It’s from _you know who_ ,” Haruka adds, gesturing for Yuichiro to take it from her. His eyebrows hike their way up his forehead, disappearing into the chaotic mess of his fringe at her words. He carefully takes the envelope from her, sliding its contents out into his lap. He drops the envelope on the coffee table so he can sort through the items. 

First is a small black jump drive, though most wouldn’t be able to tell it at first glance. He sets that aside in favor of the folded slips of paper that came with it. He opens the first, quickly scanning the scrawl written across the lined paper, expression darkening. He then flips open the other, eyes narrowing in on the design printed on the page and the sticky notes crudely taped to it. 

“I’ll run these through the scanner and have them sent directly to Zero. See if you can get back in contact with _you know who_.” He shuffles the papers back together into a pile and folds them into his pocket, standing from the couch.

Haruka follows him with her eyes. “That may be harder than you think. If he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be. Not even I would be able to find him.”

“If he’s contacting you now, and even delivered this personally, then he must be nearby. I know you can find him,” he says this with the barest hint of a reassuring smile, “and I’ll do what I need to on my end.” And with that, he disappears in a flurry up the stairwell, leaving her behind in the living room.

She sighs. She might as well get to work on all those chores if she intends to go on this wild goose chase. 

Noticing that Yuichiro had left the envelope behind, she carefully picks it up, turning it over in her hands. Nothing of note. No return address. No postage stamp. Nothing. She sighs again, holding the envelope up above her and wondering how exactly she is supposed to find a man who is as corporeal as a ghost.

But as she puzzles over this, the light from the overhead lamp catches on the envelope just right, revealing a strange shadow along one of the seams. Withheld breath, she sits up and delicately pries apart the seams, conscious of the glue holding everything together.

There, written innocently, is a number.

“You sly bastard,” she hisses through her teeth. And with that, she rushes to the kitchen to find her phone.

…

_That… was certainly something_ , Rockman thinks from where he has sequestered himself in the household’s network. He isn’t exactly hiding since there isn’t anybody around to find him, but he still feels terrible about having eavesdropped, feeling the inexplicable urge to crawl into a hole and disappear. 

But concern eventually wins out over his moral dilemma. He hadn’t been able to see what was contained in the envelope because of the angle, but he knows that it can’t be anything good by the hushed tones the Hikari’s were speaking in and the look on Dr. Hikari’s face.

He briefly entertains the thought that someone may have sent them a threat. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. But the way the Hikari’s spoke about this ‘you know who’ character makes him believe otherwise. If he’s putting in his best guess, it seems to be a warning. 

Rockman shakes his head and makes his way back to Netto’s computer, distracted by his thoughts. He is only shaken from his musings when his visual processor briefly glitches, sparks of white and black dancing in his vision. A sharp pain accompanies it, and he stumbles into a wall and reaches for his head instinctively. 

He can’t think. The pixels obscuring his vision feel like pin needles in his processor, mixing with the foreign pain signals echoing near his temples. He presses his hands to the sides of his head, leaning hard on the wall of data that saved him from completely collapsing to the floor.

But as quickly as it had come, it fades. Rockman blinks a few times to check that his visual processor is correctly functioning. When no more pixels appear he rights himself, hurriedly running a diagnostic test for any bugs in his system.

A frantic energy buzzes within his core as he watches the diagnostic run its course, tracking the progress bar with an intense stare. The tool pings, indicating that no abnormalities are detected, and he narrows his eyes in response.

Weird. 

He hovers for another moment, wondering if he should run the diagnostic again, but it seems clear that whatever just happened was an isolated event. He brushes the screen aside and makes a note to speak to Dr. Hikari about it later.

… 

“...tto…”

Rolling away from the sunlight shining on his eyelids, he curls himself into a ball, pressing his face into the soft plushness of his pillow. His covers are bundled in the shape of a nest, providing a comfortable cocoon of warmth. He intends to leech as much of the pleasant heat as he can, beginning to doze off again.

“Net…”

Sleep’s rising tides are beginning to drag him back under when he subconsciously registers a notification from his PET. He doesn’t quite catch what it says, something like ‘column’? ‘Commune’? ‘Exhume’? 

“NETTO HIKARI, GET YOUR LAZY REAR OUT OF BED THIS INSTANT!”

He startles violently, sheets and pillows flying every direction as he falls right over the edge of the bed and onto the floor. The resounding crash causes various objects on his dressers and desk to teeter warningly but mostly remain in place. 

Oh… _‘volume’_.

Once the dust has settled and he has recovered from his shock, he carefully massages his aching tailbone and clambers to his feet. A hiss falls from his lips as the motion pulls at the bruises already forming on his pressure points.

“What the hell was that for?!” It comes out a lot weaker than he intended, even as he does his best to glare convincingly at the figure on his PET screen. 

“Language,” is the automatic response, an annoying habit picked up from Airisu. A short sigh follows, one Netto is all too familiar with, “You have thirty minutes until the first bell. Chip chop.”

He can feel the blood drain from his face, and he practically dives headfirst for his closet, tearing open the doors with such ferocity that they bounce off the walls with a bang. 

“Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?!”

“I tried, multiple times even,” is the navi’s deadpan response. He looks bored, almost, sitting there on a poorly rendered couch that was a product of one of Netto’s early programming classes. His gaze is focused on a daily planner, reviewing the day’s events. Even after all these years, it’s a morning routine he hasn’t dropped, despite knowing Netto’s schedule front to back. “And for the record, you were the one that told me to let you sleep in a little longer this morning.”

He can’t exactly deny it, so he resorts to grumbling to himself and hastily shoving his clothes on. He’s lucky he thought to pack his books and school work the night before. He finally has his shirt over his head before he snatches up his bag and PET, ignoring Rockman’s indignant squawk when he thrusts both onto the bathroom counter while he tries to sort out his hair. 

He pays no attention to his navi’s grumbling as he instead focuses on pushing a toothbrush into his mouth after giving up on fixing his bird’s nest of a hairstyle. He only tunes back in once the navi begins listing off his daily reminders.

“You have an algebra test first thing this morning. Don’t forget to use the correct pencils this time, all right? And you promised to meet Tohru during morning break. You lost that bet, so you’re paying for snacks this time. Based on my calculations, the likelihood of Mrs. Horikawa giving a pop quiz in her history class is 76.6%. You should be fine, with how thoroughly we’ve reviewed the recent material.”

Netto spat in the sink, snatching up his things again and stumbling down the stairs. “The only other thing of note is soccer practice this afternoon. _Please_ tell me you packed your cleats this time.”

“I did, I did!” Netto insists, ducking through the stairwell entrance into the kitchen, making a beeline for the breakfast set out for him at his usual place at the counter. His mother hums from where she stands at the stove, something sizzling in the pan on the burner closest to her.

“Good morning, Netto!” She sings all too cheerfully, blinding smile bunching her cheeks as she turns to greet him. He grumbles a less exuberant greeting around the food he had haphazardly shoved into his mouth just moments before, but his mother doesn’t seem to mind. How she can be so lively this early in the morning is beyond him.

He finishes shoveling food down his throat by the time their resident night owl makes its appearance. It lumbers down the hall and into the kitchen like some sort of disheveled zombie, hair a wild bat’s nest that rivals Netto’s own and clothes so disorderly they could have only been put on in the pitch black.

Haruka turns to the shambling, half-dead creature living in their home with a smile just as sunny as before, forcefully pushing a mug of steaming hot coffee into its hands. “Drink.” It’s not a request.

The night owl turns drunkenly with barely a sound, returning the way it came with the warm mug clutched between its greedy hands. Netto thinks that may be the last of his father he’ll see today.

He passes by the living room with nary a glance in his haste to the front door, attempting to cram his feet into his shoes while juggling his book bag, sports bag, and PET all at once. “Don’t forget your coat,” Rockman pointedly reminds him, and he deliberately drops all his things to shrug on a jacket and scarf over his uniform.

Netto is halfway out the door when his mother calls for him, appearing from around the corner with his lunch box in hand. “We can’t have you going hungry now, can we?” He takes it from her with a sheepish “thanks” as she runs her fingers through his hair in an attempt to organize the untameable chaos. “And don’t forget to come home right after your after school activities, all right?”

He dodges under her hands, “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll be here.” He’s out the door in a whirlwind before anything else can hold him up, casting a quick goodbye over his shoulder as he disappears past the front gate.

… 

The day runs a lot smoother than Rockman could have hoped. Netto remembers to use the right pencils for his algebra test and is confident about his performance. He meets Tohru as planned, and they review for the potential pop quiz that afternoon while Meiru and Yaito roll their eyes. They share two melon pans between the four of them, and briefly facetime Dekao, who is back in Ameroupe with his father. Chisao video bombs their session, and they all laugh as Dekao tries his best to posture in front of his highly impressionable baby brother.

The classes for the day pass by in a blur, and they eventually find themselves at lunch. The squad sits in their usual place in the classroom, nearest to the window while the navis gather together inside the digital classroom. They find an open space out of the way and settle down for the duration of the lunch period.

The other navis and their netops chatter away, but Rockman allows himself to be distracted by his thoughts. He stares off into the strange, murky sea past the main areas of the network, lines of code flickering in the thick fog like he would imagine fireflies to do on steamy summer nights. He remembers seeing a video once, where thousands of the small, bioluminescent insects lit up the darkness like a night sky full of twinkling stars. The footage was grainy and didn’t quite capture the magnificence of the scene like people spoke of, so he fills in the blanks the best he can with his own imagination.

He wonders what it would be like to stand in an open field under the night sky, to feel the soft breeze on his face and listen to the bubbling of a nearby creek and smell the dewy earth beneath his feet. All while watching hundreds of thousands of tiny creatures with lightning trapped under their shells dance into the night. He wonders what it would be like to cup one in his hands, just to see how its golden light would fall across the skin of his palms.

He wonders why something so beautiful can be so fleeting, so short-lived. Or maybe it is because it is so short-lived that it is beautiful. Does that make those whose lives are indefinite hideous?

“Did you know that Ms. Mari is still out on leave?” Meiru directs the question at their friend group, and the other operators glance at her in surprise. Rockman tunes back into their conversation, then.

“So she’s still sick? It must be bad if she hasn’t yet returned to work.” Tohru worries at his bottom lip, fingers clenching around his utensils. His look of worry is shared by the others to varying degrees.

“Has she not been to the doctor? That doesn’t seem like her,” Yaito comments as blithely as she can manage, but there is still a tremor in the undercurrent of her voice. 

Netto’s leg bounces in nervous energy, fingers drumming alongside it. “I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she’s finally decided to go on that dream vacation that she was always talking about.” Even as he says the words, Rockman can tell that he doesn’t believe them himself. A brief moment of silence falls over them, but it is soon broken by Meiru’s loud declaration.

“We should check on her, or at the very least get her some of those chocolates she likes. It probably isn’t any fun being locked up in her apartment all by herself.”

“Are you sure?” Tohru begins apprehensively, “Is it safe for us to visit? I don’t want to overstep our bounds–”

“It’ll be fine,” Meiru reassures, “and since when has Ms. Mari cared about bounds? With all the antics Netto dragged her into, she’s probably used it by now.”

“Hey, that wasn’t just me you know!”

“We should go after school today,” Yaito suggests, ignoring Netto’s grumbling across from her, “I can send someone to pick up the chocolates.”

“Ah, but I have clubs after school,” Tohru mumbles, twisting a lock of hair between his fingers. Netto leans back in his desk chair, hands folded behind his head, “And I have soccer practice. I won’t be getting out until late.”

“I have to hang around after school, anyway, so we can go once everyone is free,” Meiru offers. Yaito appears somewhat put off by the decision, but doesn’t outwardly complain. Rockman hates having to kill the mood, but he knows that if he doesn’t remind him, Netto will completely forget about it.

“Netto,” he begins, directing all of his attention to his netop. Netto immediately does the same, adjusting the position of his PET so he can more clearly see the screen. “Don’t forget that your mother wants you back home as soon as possible, today. I suggest you think about that before making any more plans.”

Netto groans audibly, throwing his head back in annoyance, “I completely forgot. I guess you guys will have to go without me.”

“Don’t be silly,” Meiru reassures him. She isn’t visible from the screen anymore, so Rockman can only guess at her expression. Based on the tone, she must have on that expression reserved for when she’s teasing Netto. “Her apartment is on the way to your house. We’ll just quickly swing by and have you on your way home before you know it!”

“I guess…”

“Well, since we have that sorted out, what do you think about–”

Rockman sighs, shoulders slumping on the long exhale. He should have figured it would turn out this way. The sound attracts the attention of the other navis, who have been dividing their attention equally between their and their netops’ conversations. 

“Are you alright?” Roll narrows her eyes at him in the same way Haruka looks at Netto when he’s done rather poorly on an assignment, and Rockman suppresses the shudder that threatens to rock through his core. “You’ve been off all day... quieter than usual.”

Ignoring the uneasiness he’s felt since that morning, Rockman smiles reassuringly in her direction, “You shouldn’t worry so much, it’s nothing.”

Roll narrows her eyes further into slits, leaning a little into his space, enough to intimidate him. If he could perspire, he would be sweating bullets under her harsh glare. He leans back to put some space between them, and she finally backs down.

“If you say so,” She acquiesces flippantly, turning back to Glide and Iceman to continue their earlier conversation.

It was good to know that his patented smile still did its job, at least.

…

“Maaaan, I’m beat.” 

Rockman’s view of the outside of his PET abruptly shifts as Netto stretches his arms above his head, the blue sky taking up the entirety of the screen for a brief moment before he lowers his arms again. The movement is slightly nauseating, but Rockman decides against commenting on it. 

“Coach is a real pain in the rear, am I right?” Netto continues obliviously, his typical, carefree cheer alight on his face and in his tone. He hasn’t changed out of his practice clothes yet, and the style of his jacket clashes terribly with them. Rockman hums to let his operator know that he’s listening and coming up with a response.

He hasn’t been able to think straight all day. It’s beginning to vex him.

“Don’t forget that you voted to continue practices throughout the entire year. If it were such a pain, you wouldn’t have shown up.”

Netto laughs good-naturedly, picking up the pace when he sees the rest of his squad gathered on the corner the next block over. He appears to be in a much better mood than he had been this morning, and a little sigh of relief exits Rockman’s mouth. He wonders if his operator has been having those dreams again.

Even if it sounds terrible, he is somewhat grateful that Netto has been in a bad mood, because he doesn’t have to worry about his operator picking up on his weird behavior.

Though to be fair, Netto is practically clueless most of the time, so he has nothing to worry about.

“Hey guys, thanks for waiting for me!” Netto calls out when he finally pulls up beside his friends. Meiru and Tohru greet him as amicably, while Yaito offers a harrumph. “What took you so long?”

Netto raises a hand to rub at the back of his head, a sheepish chuckle hanging in the air between them, “Sorry. Coach kept me over time. You know how it is.”

“Actually, I don’t!” Yaito exclaims in response, stomping her foot for good measure, but Netto continues to laugh at her petulant expression. Meiru only shakes her head and begins ushering them down the sidewalk. In one hand, she carries a pastel pink paper bag with the logo of the local pâtissier printed on one side. It sways on her wrist as they walk and converse, their group occasionally bursting into loud, high-pitched giggles wherever someone says something particularly funny.

Ms. Mari’s house isn’t far from Meiru’s and Netto’s own, so they don’t have to walk very far once they enter their neighborhood. As they pass by several distinctly colored houses, their discussion turns to who in their right mind would paint their home neon yellow. Rockman can’t see the exact colors from the angle of the PET screen and the glare of the sun, but he can make a pretty good guess.

At the end of the block, a small condominium complex takes up the corner, its white walls a stark contrast to the… _colorful_ houses beforehand. The modern, tinted windows reflect the blue of the sky and white of the clouds. Ms. Mari’s apartment is on the bottom floor, short conifers in pots flanking the door to her home. The mailbox attached to her door is overflowing with envelopes and small packages.

Meiru takes notice of this as she steps up to the door, face drawn in confusion. “Weird.”

“You can say that again,” Tohru mumbles out, hands twisting in his sweater, eyes flicking nervously from the mailbox to the curtained windows to the door handle. 

“Calm down, guys. Ms. Mari probably just forgot to check her mail.” Netto pushes between his friends until he is just before the door, reaching up to knock. But when his knuckles make contact with the door, it swings in slightly. They all freeze at the tiny sliver of a darkened interior that is revealed.

Netto, who must be spurred on by blind panic, steps forward and pushes the door open with such force that it collides with the interior wall with a loud bang. With the sunlight pouring in, only obstructed by the figures of Netto and the others, the interior of the home is on full display. Even from his place in his PET, Rockman has a clear view of the chaos in front of them.

Drawers have been forced open, spilling their contents all over the floor. Picture frames have been swept off vertical surfaces and torn off walls, shattered glass decorating the hall’s floor. Chairs are overturned, sheets ripped from the bed, silverware scattered across tile… 

“Oh my god,” Meiru gasps from behind Netto, a hand clasped over her mouth in shock. Tohru looks dangerously green, and for once in her life, Yaito has no words to say as she turns as white as a sheet. 

“What the hell…” Netto breathes distractedly, eyes wide and fixed on the broken glass leading into the kitchen, a strange symbol painted into the cabinets with black spray paint.

Rockman steadies himself, closing his eyes against the sight. “Netto,” he starts carefully, “I think this would be a good time to call the police.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'll be leaving for school in a few days, I won't have a lot of time to work on new chapters between when I leave and late November. I'm planning to try and have three or four more chapters written before I leave, and they'll be posted once a month. Or, if I get more than that done, I'll evenly divide them up as necessary. That means that there should be a chapter up on the fourth of each month. If an issue occurs, you can contact me at my tumblr: sparklecat21.


	5. Chapter 4: Shattered Glass (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a plan for what I wanted to say for this, but it's been a month, so I can't remember. All you need to know is that I'll do my best to get chapters out within a reasonable time frame, but I can't make any promises with school currently in session. I'm already a good chunk of the way through chapter 5, so that one should be out on time, if I actually remember to finish it.
> 
> Anyways, good luck with the new school year! I know we'll need it.

Netto stands in the middle of Ms. Mari’s living room, taking in the disorder around him silently. Shards of broken glass lay underfoot, reflecting the little light able to penetrate the curtains, and dust has yet to settle over the disturbed space. 

Rockman remains silent for Netto’s benefit, giving him space to take everything in. His PET can just barely pick up on the voices of the others, and he focuses instead on their low tones. Meiru is on the phone with the emergency dispatcher, stuttering out answers to their questions as they wait for the police to arrive. Yaito and Tohru haven’t set foot outside of the hallway, but they stand in the doorways to other rooms, speaking so quietly Rockman can’t pick up on what they’re saying. 

With a low breath, Rockman scans the world outside of the PET screen, eyes landing on a broken picture frame a little to the right. It’s a picture of Ms. Mari and Netto’s class the year they graduated elementary school. She always complained that they were the worst class she ever had and woefully bemoaned all the gray hairs they gave her, but it was clear to her coworkers and students that it was quite the opposite. The photo is a testament to that, all of them crowding into the frame with wide grins and silly poses. This picture had caught Ms. Mari mid-laugh, a pleasant blush high on her cheeks.

He jerks his gaze away from the picture. Rockman knows, logically, that it is unlikely that she will be joining them again for their upcoming graduation in a few months.

Netto begins to move, carefully stepping over the broken glass littering the floor until he reaches the door leading into Ms. Mari’s office. The handle is broken off, laying somewhere in the mess on the floor. It swings open easily, revealing the room to be in similar disarray to the rest of the house.

Shelves of books and teaching materials have been swept to the floor, crudely piled together. Even the file cabinet has been broken into, various papers and folders strewn across the floor. A broken snow globe lays in the corner, glitter spilled over the floor. 

Oddly enough, Ms. Mari’s desktop computer sits innocently on her desk, unmoved from its original placement. It looks so out of place from the disorder around it.

Netto’s hand clenches into a fist, and the sudden cracking of his knuckles near the comms causes Rockman to flinch.

“Netto…?”

Rockman’s query goes unanswered as Netto shuffles forward through the mess on the floor to the computer tower, drawing his PET off his waistband. He stares at the computer for a long moment, but Rockman can’t make out his expression from the low angle. Eventually, Netto gathers up enough bravado to respond.

“We’re jacking in.”

It takes a full two seconds for the words to register before Rockman’s mouth drops open. 

“Netto, we can’t! This is a crime scene!”

“Oh, come on,” Netto makes a flippant motion towards the untouched computer, “You can’t tell me you’re not curious.”

“That’s not the point!” His hands are up in the air like he’s preparing to strangle his netop, “Do you know how suspicious it’ll look if we get caught snooping around!?”

“Come on,  _ please _ ~” 

Rockman’s eye twitches.

_ Goddammit, Axel–I’m going to delete you for teaching him how to make puppy eyes like that! _

“You’re making my job more difficult than it needs to be,” he grumbles, and Netto recognizes it as his win with an exaggerated fist pump.

_ The resemblance is  _ uncanny _. _

“And what is your job, anyway?” Netto teases, injecting as much cheer into his voice as he can, “Being my second mom?” 

“Your father asked me to look out for you and keep you out of trouble. So far you’ve made it near impossible to do either of those things.”

“Quit it with the ‘your father’ thing,” Netto boots up the computer, completely ignoring Rockman's second point. “Isn’t he technically your father, too?”

Rockman freezes, core lurching painfully in his frame.  _ What did he _ –?

“I mean, dad  _ did _ create you.”

Rockman releases a partly relieved, partly resigned sigh. He forces himself to relax, choking out, “I suppose,” as Netto connects the PET to the computer. He disperses into a cloud of data as he is transferred from his PET to Ms. Mari’s homepage, rearranging on the other side. 

With one look around the space, he can only come to one conclusion.

“The system’s been wiped.”

“Huh? Seriously?” Netto’s surprise echoes through the comms, and there’s a moment where all is silent but for the clicking of the keyboard. “Well damn. I guess you were right.”

Rockman ignores the blatant use of profanity, “Since Ms. Mari doesn’t have a password on her computer, I suppose anyone could have wiped the hard drive. But even with a strong knowledge of computer programming, I doubt that they were successful in destroying everything. Give me a minute.”

The navi plops down on the spot, dipping his fingers into the computer’s data and unraveling the tightly wound code as he gets to work. He’s familiar with this routine by now, and it comes as second nature to him. 

Netto lets out an unflattering snort, “I thought you weren’t interested in snooping around,  _ Second Mom _ .”

“Considering that navis are typically at the whims of their operators,” Rockman drawls back, “I’m sure that the police will believe me if I tell them you forced me into it.”

“Whatever you say,  _ Second Mom _ ,” he airly returns, the sound of the desk chair creaking as he takes a seat.

Rockman continues working in silence, tracing the threads of code with deft fingers and unraveling the web little by little. Netto hums a tune to himself in the background, desk chair squeaking as he spins it around and around. The creaking eventually comes to a halt, and the shuffling of papers can be heard. Rockman lets it flow in one ear and out the other, wholeheartedly devoted to his task.

He’s persuading another thread of code along, the string of ones and zeroes looping about him in elegant curls when he finds it.

“Bingo.” 

He fishes the data free, carefully extracting it from the web in one long chunk. He brushes aside the rest of the code now that he no longer needs it. Netto returns from wherever he had wandered off to, collapsing back into the chair.

“You found something?”

“Yeah. It’ll take me a second to restore it, though.”

“What do you think it is?”

Rockman hums as his fingers fly over the keys, “I can’t say for sure yet, but I think it's a…” The navi stares down at the new pop-up with furrowed brows. It appears to be the saved data of a messaging app, the last conversation marked read just a week prior.

“Hey, what is it? You’re killing me here!” Netto’s voice reaches him even in his dazed confusion, and he accidentally clicks on that first conversation. The other participant in the chat is labeled ‘Yuri’ with a heart attached.

“Do you know of someone named Yuri?” he asks in lieu of a proper response. There is a short pause before Netto answers.

“No, I don’t think I’ve met anybody with that name. Why?”

“Well–”

The sound of sirens rapidly approaching cuts him off, and all he can think is–

“Oh, shit!”

On any other day, the sounds of Netto scrambling around the cluttered office would have been entertaining and blackmail worthy, but all Rockman can feel is panic at the prospect of being caught snooping around where he shouldn’t. He quickly saves the data and allows Netto to disconnect his PET. 

By the time the police walk through the door, Netto is casually leaning (read: trying to act like the innocent child he is not) against the wall of the living room, Rockman tucked comfortably in his PET by his side.

‘Side mission: snooping on your old teacher’s computer’; complete!

Now all they have to do is cheese their way through questioning and pray to the gods above that Netto can produce a decent lie.

…

“So, just to reiterate, you haven’t touched anything, correct?”

“Yep!”

“Are you sure?”

“Totally. I didn’t go anywhere near her computer at all. Seriously!”

“O...kay?”

“I’m being completely serious! I didn’t go into her office at all! Or, well, I may have peeked in there a little.”

“Uh-huh...”

“Just a little, I swear! I mean, I may have also gone through some of her papers without permission, but I didn’t touch anything else.”

“Sure.”

“And, well, I guess I also sorted through her books a little bit. She has terrible taste in books, by the way. They're all trashy romance novels!”

“Is that right?” 

“Oh yeah! And her desk chair is super comfy. You should give it a try!”

The investigator’s lips thin, face muscles straining not to grimace. He turns from the child in front of him to his partner, eyeing the bundle of nervous energy from the corner of his eye. 

“This one’s loose a circuit or two,” he whispers to the other man, and his partner folds his arms across his chest in thought.

“Either that, or he’s just a terrible liar.”

The whole situation is facepalm worthy. Which is exactly what Rockman does after a long, drawn-out, comedic pause. Figures that Rockman's netop would be both inconceivably impulsive and terrible at lying.

And if you haven’t puzzled it out yet, those two traits together are a  _ disastrous _ combination. 

Well, nobody said that smuggling information (obtained illegally, he may add) was going to be easy.

Too bad he has to rely on the worst fibber in the universe to do the job.

_ Wait, why am I even considering hiding this from the police? _

_ Oh, fuck. Uncle Axel is beginning to rub off on me, isn’t he? _

_ Well shit. _

Luckily for Rockman, he doesn’t have to worry about his netop revealing any more than is necessary, because they are interrupted.

Unluckily for Rockman, it happens to be Netto’s least favorite person in the world, and he will inevitably be forced to listen to his netop rant for hours about his distaste for this particular individual. 

_ Well, you win some, you lose some. _

The new arrival waltzes into the room like he owns the place, quick and efficient. His taste in clothing has improved at least a little, as he’s done away with those ugly camo pants he used to wear. Otherwise, he's remained mostly the same. 

He comes to a stop at the edge of the room, ice blue eyes perusing its contents. This, unfortunately, includes Netto and the two investigators. 

Rockman knows the exact moment two boy’s eyes lock, because a veritable hush falls over the room. It only lasts so long, though, because very soon, Rockman’s view outside his PET jerks upward as his netop lurches to his feet.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

“I believe that’s my line, Hikari.” His familiar drawl hasn’t changed one bit, and Rockman still finds it as intimidating as the first time he heard Enzan speak. 

Sparks fly in the air between the two netops as they stare each other down, neither daring to break eye contact for the sake of their pride.

Rockman thinks it’s stupid, but good luck to anybody who can convince Netto otherwise. And Enzan, too, for that matter. He's just as stubborn.

Rockman also thinks that if they could just stop hating each other’s guts for a second, they would realize that they have a lot more in common. 

But he digresses.

The point is that they’re glaring at each other, and unless the Earth stops spinning or the sun blinks out of existence, they aren’t going to stop their wordless battle of pride for anything. 

“Enzan-sama.”

Except, maybe for that.

Enzan doesn’t break eye contact, but he addresses his navi all the same, “What is it, Blues?”

“Let us act before any tracks go cold. If this is Gospel’s work, then we do not have much time.”

Enzan makes a grunt that could have been an affirmative or a comment on the weather and breaks off their staring contest, breezing past the other netop without a second glance. 

“Hey! I’m not done with you yet!” Netto practically leaps over the back of an armchair to follow after his ‘fated arch-rival’ (his words, not Rockman's). He doesn’t make it very far before the investigator catches his arm, tugging him back into the armchair.

Enzan glances back in distaste, pausing for a moment in his tracks. A sigh echoes from the PET strapped to his belt.

“Rockman, keep your operator on a leash before he does something foolish.”

Rockman sighs back and shakes his head, hands lifted in defeat, “He’s usually so well behaved, I don’t know what happened.”

“Hey! Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?!”

“Just make sure he keeps out of our business. We’re busy enough as it is.” Enzan grits out between clenched teeth, eyes as sharp as knives.

“I’ll do my best,” is the only thing he can offer, but the other netop and his navi are already gone before he can say anything else. 

Netto makes a noise that he probably thinks is a growl, but it sounds more like the grumblings of an angry kitten. "He really grinds my gears," he hisses.

The investigators soon draw Netto back into their interrogation, once again reaffirming that he hasn’t touched anything else, and no, he hadn't been playing around on Ms. Ozono’s computer,  _ who do you think I am? _ Netto, thankfully, produces a pretty decent lie. Relatively speaking. Once they have finished up their routine questioning, the police guide Netto and the others to the front hall, and give them a rehearsed spiel.

It is during this extremely boring diatribe that a forensic specialist leaves the kitchen, making her way towards the investigator in charge. She leans in to whisper in his ear, but Rockman is still able to pick up on her words. 

“We’ve found human blood, sir.”

And then they are unceremoniously kicked out, leaving them dazed and confused on the doorstep.

So much for getting answers.

…

“Jeez, I can’t believe that guy!”

“So you say, Netto.”

“Seriously, what's that dude’s problem?! I can’t stand him!”

“You’ve said the exact same thing five times now.”

“But it’s true!”

Meiru side-eyes him with an unimpressed look, marching a little faster ahead, “You know, with how much you talk about him, some people are going to get the wrong idea.”

Netto sputters, his face flushing a bright red, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“Oh, nothing,” she singsongs, dancing just out of reach as he takes a swipe at her, “Just that you seem awfully invested in Ijuin if you’re willing to rant about him for hours at a time.”

“It’s not like that,” he grumbles, and then louder, “I just can’t stand him, is all.”

“And that makes it six.”

“Cut me some slack, jeez!”

A silence falls over them, heavy and choking. Their brief amusement fades away under the weight of their looming situation. Eventually, Meiru’s footsteps slow to a stop, and Netto halts beside her. Her hands are curled tightly around the handle of her bookbag.

“I know you don’t like him, Netto,” she begins quietly, so he has to strain his ears to pick up on her words, “But if he can help find Ms. Mari, or at least find out what happened to her, isn’t that enough?”

Netto grimaces, hands clenching. It’s hard to shake off the image of his ex-teacher’s home in such disarray, the strange mark left on the cabinets, the wiped computer, and the word ‘blood’ he had just barely managed to catch. Logically, he knows that it isn’t going to be a good prognosis, but he doesn’t want to believe it. 

He turns and looks back the way they came. Even though they’ve made some distance between them and the condominiums, he can still see the police cars and crime scene tape. 

It was there on that corner that their little group had split ways for the evening. 

Tohru’s and Yaito’s homes were in the opposite direction of their own, so Yaito had offered to call a car and drop Tohru off on her way home. Tohru, who was shaken and didn’t want to be left alone, accepted her offer without much fanfare. But while they were waiting for the car to arrive, they had placed a call to Dekao to give him the news.

It hadn’t been a pretty experience.

Netto shakes his head to clear it, turning back to Meiru. She’s still waiting for his answer, staring back down the way they came like he had been doing just moments before. 

“I guess so,” he offers hesitantly, wary of her reaction. She turns back to him, giving him a small, hopeful smile in return, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

“Come on,” she says lightly, setting off again, “the longer we wait, the more likely your mother is going to kill you.”

The blood drains right out of Netto’s face, a look of true horror replacing it, “Oh,  _ shit _ –”

“Language.” It’s been some time since Rockman last spoke, and it makes Netto jump.

“Jeez, dude. Don't scare me like that!”

Rockman's tone is unimpressed, “I sent her a message already. You’ll be fine if you get going now.”

If it is even possible, Netto’s face only grows paler, “Wait, what exactly did you tell her?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“You...you know what? Nevermind.”

"Alright, slowpoke," Meiru cuts in from ahead, "I'll race you there."

Netto shakes away his apprehension, his competitive nature rising to the challenge, "Oh, you are so  _ on _ ."

Meiru’s high pitched giggle pierces the air as they take off in the direction of their homes, taunting him forward. The mid-winter air bites at his skin through his soccer uniform as they run. In the back of his mind, the lingering worry over what happened to Ms. Mari bugs him, but he sets that aside to deal with once he has isolated himself away in his room.

If he cries, he doesn’t want anybody to be around to see it.

…

Netto waves a final goodbye to Meiru from the front gate of her yard while she’s still standing in her doorway. She returns the wave before ducking through the door, the lights in the foyer flicking on. He stands there for a long moment, staring off into space with nothing particular in mind.

A puff of condensed air rises from his exhale, and he is suddenly aware of how low the sun hangs in the sky. A thin sliver of golden light kisses the horizon, the sky painted in streaks of pink, red, and violet, and spotted with the faint hint of stars. A stark chill is already settling in their neighborhood, warning of freezing temperatures to come.

“Netto?”

The query is tentative, wary. He watches another cloud of air dissipate into the cold, a small, somber smile tugging at his lips. He speaks softly, carefully, like the words will lose their meaning if he speaks any louder.

“Yeah, I know.”

The words pass like a breath of air from his lips, and he urges one foot forward to begin his slow gait to his own home. His footsteps echo lightly in the empty street, and he finds it to be soothing.

“Let’s go home, Rockman.”

He already knows the navi's response before he even says it.

“Always.”


End file.
